


impact

by scriveyner (trismegistus)



Series: Voltron Fic Collection [35]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pre-Season/Series 07, carnival fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2020-06-26 13:32:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19769230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trismegistus/pseuds/scriveyner
Summary: “It’s okay,” he said, although the tone of his voice had slid into disappointment. “I know we’re on a mission, not a date.”





	impact

Shiro stood at the opening of the booth and stared at the large array of plush monstrosities as Lance handled the toy weapon, then turned slightly and glanced along the arcade row behind them. The entire area was teeming with people of all shapes and sizes, alien forms both familiar and not clustered together as they made their way through the carnival. He knew that Keith and Allura weren’t far, but he couldn’t see them through the crush of nightlife and that kept him more on edge than he ought to be.

After a moment of stretched silence, Shiro realized he had been addressed and glanced back to Lance, surprised. “What?” he asked, lamely, because the frown that had settled on Lance’s face grew with his response. “I’m sorry, Lance, I got distracted.”

Lance shook his head and started to put down the toy weapon. It was long, longer than the blaster rifle that Lance’s bayard turned into and reminded Shiro more of a hunting rifle. “It’s okay,” he said, although the tone of his voice had slid into disappointment. “I know we’re on a mission, not a date.”

There was another beat of silence, and then Lance flushed pink and looked away quickly. “N-not that this was ever a date,” the words spilled out of him fast and Shiro blinked a few times in response. “Sorry, I don’t know why I even said that.” Lance sighed deeply, and made to step away from the booth.

It _wasn’t_ a date. Shiro looked to the booth, with its gaudy arrangement of plush aliens, and simplistic-but-likely-rigged shooting gallery, and then back to Lance, who was already scanning down the arcade, undoubtedly looking for one of the others, and the sudden realization of why Lance had been so excited that Shiro had selected him for this mission struck him, and the tips of his ears went pink. _Oh._

“Lance,” Shiro said, but it was loud and Lance kept a few steps ahead of him, his walk determined, not dejected. They hadn’t seen the Princess or Keith yet, but Shiro knew that they were around. After a moment of hesitation he touched Lance’s shoulder, and Lance looked back at him. “Maybe that booth?” he suggested, indicating with his head a booth that had half a dozen thin, reedy aliens clustered around it. The edges of Lance’s smile returned and Shiro smiled back as he let Lance lead him to this booth.

It was a variation of the milk bottle game he’d seen every summer at the pop-up carnival that happened in the town he grew up. Several of the reedy aliens were winding up to throw a ball at the pyramid of vessels, but they lacked the strength to even get the balls close; they slowed and dropped abruptly, like they had hit some sort of invisible force field. Shiro frowned at this, but Lance nudged his shoulder, pointing to the prizes on display.

There were very obvious knock-offs of the Voltron Lions among the cheap prizes here. Shiro laughed despite himself, and Lance grinned. “I _need_ to win you that Black Lion,” he said, and stepped up to the booth.

The alien running the booth was Galra in heritage, but not full-blooded; he was large and purple, with a wild shock of green fur and red-fringed ears. That, mixed with the outrageous hues of his carnival outfit made him a walking headache. Lance leaned back, looking to Shiro. “Do we have any money?”

They didn’t, technically have any GAC. But the funny thing about a digital currency was that someone with the right amount of technical knowledge could manufacture the credits without much difficulty. Once upon a time Shiro would have probably frowned at counterfeiting but hey, he was a rebel revolutionary in a war against a galactic superpower and that didn’t exactly pay well. He handed over Pidge’s newly-minted credit chips and Lance gleefully paid the seizure-inducing Galra for an armful of balls.

Lance wanted to win him a knock-off Black Lion stuffed creature, and that was insanely charming.

Lance had a good arm, and a good eye. However, the first ball he threw never even made it across the booth, falling far short of the target. Lance paused, frowning, having been somewhat confident prior to this. “Huh,” he said, holding the second ball in his hand a moment as he re-judged the distance. “That’s weird.”

The second ball made it farther than the first, but not by much. The Galra clucked his tongue in a false show of sympathy for Lance, as Lance wound up and flung the final ball as hard as he could.

Just like the two previous, it dropped to the ground far short of hitting its target.

Lance’s shoulders slumped in dejection, and he jammed his hands into his pockets, turning on his heel and not realizing how close Shiro was nor how closely he’d been watching. His cheeks flushed slightly in shame. “Guess I wasn’t as good at that one as I thought,” he said, and tilted his head. “Should we go find Keith?”

“Hang on a second,” Shiro said, and pulled out another credit. He was startled by Lance’s hand on his arm.

“It’s not worth it,” Lance said, and there was still that hint of shame to his tone. “It’s rigged as hell, did you see how hard my throws hit the ground?”

He had, of course. The balls were likely magnetized. “I saw,” Shiro said, and held up his credit, waiting for the Galra to notice him. “I just wanna try, too.”

His first attempt flopped just as Lance’s had. He hadn’t thrown the ball particularly hard, calculating the weight of it and watching how it plummeted. “Yeah,” he said, weighing the second ball in his left hand before he switched it to his right. “ _Definitely_ rigged.”

* * *

“What is _that?_ ” Keith said when he saw what Lance was carrying under his arm. Shiro was right behind Lance, wearing an expression that could only be described as pleased with himself. Keith’s eyebrows drew together when he saw that, and when he looked back at Lance, Lance blushed.

“Shiro won me a lion,” Lance said. “And knocked down a rigged game, too, that dude wasn’t happy at _all_.” He looked back at Shiro and grinned, and Shiro smiled fondly in response; and Keith scowled when they started blushing awkwardly at each other.

Allura patted his arm and in leaned in close. “Let them have this,” she said, and kissed his cheek.


End file.
